


The Way He Looks At You

by SeijohTrash



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Fluff and Crack, Idiots in Love, M/M, Not Actually Unrequited Love, POV Kyoutani Kentarou, Self-Indulgent, definitely got some crack going on in here, iwaoi - Freeform, literally iwaoi being disgusting and kyoutani hating it, low key crack, matsuhana being obnoxious as usual, no beta we die like men, technically canon complaint, the most self indulgent thing ever, this is for those who want a terrible unsatisfying ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-16 00:54:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29692539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeijohTrash/pseuds/SeijohTrash
Summary: That was when he first should have noticed it, but it was only after he watched Iwaizumi yell at Oikawa for forty-five minutes about forgetting his bento and then immediately giving him his own that he realized that the vice captain definitely did not hate Oikawa.No, he definitely didn’t. In fact...Well. Kentarou definitely paid attention after that.It wasn’t really obvious how Iwaizumi took care of Oikawa—a sharp jab in his side to stop him from slouching (“You’ll injure your back, dumbass!”), an entire lecture about eating healthy, a ‘grudging’ surrender of his shoulder for him to sleep on during bus rides (‘grudging’ because he complained loudly about it but offered it immediately anyway), and even lending that stupidly tall idiot his gloves when it was cold and Oikawa had forgotten his.It was almost embarrassing how much Iwaizumi did for Oikawa.
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru
Comments: 5
Kudos: 82





	The Way He Looks At You

**Author's Note:**

> hello my beautiful darling children! 
> 
> i love you all so very very much and i’m so glad you’re being so patient with me even though i haven’t posted in the last however the hell long and this is absolutely not the superhero/reporter au i promised! 
> 
> however: please take this humble, god awful fic i finished at one in the morning for you!!!!! it is past midnight. i am suffering. my eyes have fallen out. my blood has been replaced with exhaustion and red bull. help me.
> 
> anyway..... don’t forget to comment and leave kudos!!! i always appreciate your lovely support and kindness!!!!

Honestly, Kentarou thought it was pretty nasty how Oikawa looked at Iwaizumi.

Sure, the vice captain was... cool, or whatever (Kentarou respected him, okay? He definitely didn’t look up to him. Or, like, want to be like him. Definitely not.) but it was still honestly nauseating when Oikawa looked at him like he’d hung the stars.

To be perfectly clear, Kentarou did not like Oikawa. He thought he was fickle, ridiculous, pompous, proud, and all too in love with himself. It was everything Kentarou didn’t respect, and it got under his skin like nothing else. Oikawa’s sickly sweet croon (“Kyouken-chan!”) could make his blood reach boiling point at record speed. It was all he could do to not punch him in his stupid face.

Iwaizumi, in contrast, was sincere, down-to-earth, modest, and a good leader. He was the kind of person Kentarou could see himself running into battle for. He was the kind of person people wanted to be like—strong, independent, kind to those weaker than himself and respectful to those stronger, and always willing to teach his kouhai.

Alright, fine. Kentarou... liked him, or whatever. He wasn’t awful, at least. Still, he couldn’t wait for the day when he could beat him at arm wrestling.

All of Iwaizumi’s qualities, of course, seemed to merit some sort of admiration from his captain, but Oikawa’s over-the-top goo-goo eyes made Kentarou want to barf. 

Oikawa would finish a good serve and hear Iwaizumi’s token “good serve, Oikawa!” and his eyes would light up like stars were shining out of them. It wasn’t that special; Iwaizumi praised everyone who deserved it, and encouraged those who didn’t until they did. That was what made him a good leader.

Oikawa always seemed to take it personally, though, like he was some big blessing to everyone around him, and when Iwaizumi praised him he was just accepting what he’d known all along. 

“Nice serve!” 

“Aw, thanks, Iwa-chan! Why can’t you be this nice to me off the court?” Oikawa whined.

There was that awful croon again. God, Kentarou wanted to puke. He tried to focus on hitting Yahaba’s set.

“Because you’re an asshole.” Iwaizumi responded without pause.

Another thing Kentarou respected about Iwaizumi: he knew how to shut Oikawa down, and he would do it ruthlessly. It was honestly such a blessing.

Oikawa gasped. “Mean! So mean! Iwa-chan will never get a girlfriend!”

Kentarou gave up trying to hit Yahaba’s sets; Oikawa’s whining was too annoying. He turned to listen to their conversation.

“‘Iwa-chan’ doesn’t have time for a girlfriend with a leech friend like you,” Iwaizumi grumbled.

“You love me,” Oikawa asserted firmly. “You don’t even need a girlfriend.”

Hanamaki, from where he’d been practicing receives with Matsukawa, grinned. “Yeah, Oikawa can be your girlfriend!”

“I’m breaking up with you.” Iwaizumi deadpanned immediately.

“What?!” Oikawa complained, draping himself onto Iwaizumi. “You can’t break up with me! I won’t let you.”

“That’s called abuse,” Matsukawa inserted helpfully.

Oikawa glared at him, though the effect was somewhat marred by him childishly sticking his tongue out as well. “I would never abuse my Iwa-chan! I would be a great wife.”

With that, he flipped his hair and jutted his chin out. The action made Kentarou even more pissed.

Hanamaki raised an eyebrow. “Pretty sure we said you’d be his girlfriend, but I’m interested at this turn of events. You’re pretty committed, huh, Oikawa?”

Spluttering, the setter removed himself from Iwaizumi, where he had still been hung over him like a limp noodle. “Wait—”

“You’d make a terrible wife,” Iwaizumi grunted finally, whacking Oikawa on the side of the head, “but I guess I’ve survived with you around for this long, so...”

Matsukawa blanched. “Did I just witness a proposal?”

Kentarou didn’t understand where he’d gotten that from, nearly gagging at the thought. Iwaizumi marry Oikawa? It didn’t make any sense.

Now that he thought about it, he could see Oikawa being somewhat in love with the ace—in fact he didn’t know how he hadn’t figured it out before. (Probably because he didn’t give a shit.) 

But Iwaizumi reciprocating? No way. He was always shutting Oikawa down; how could he possibly love Oikawa the way Oikawa loved him?

“But Iwaizumi-san hates Oikawa.” Kentarou blurted out of nowhere. The third years turned to look at him, each with varying levels of surprise clear on their expressions.

Iwaizumi recovered first (damn, Kentarou respected the shit out of him) and furrowed his brows together. “Aren’t you supposed to be practicing?”

It was a pretty pointed question, and Kentarou just grumbled in embarrassment at his outburst and turned away.

That was when he first should have noticed it, but it was only after he watched Iwaizumi yell at Oikawa for forty-five minutes about forgetting his bento and then immediately giving him his own that he realized that the vice captain definitely did not hate Oikawa.

No, he didn’t. In fact...

Well. Kentarou certainly paid attention after that.

It wasn’t really obvious how Iwaizumi took care of Oikawa—a sharp jab in his side to stop him from slouching (“You’ll injure your back, dumbass!”), an entire lecture about eating healthy, a ‘grudging’ surrender of his shoulder for him to sleep on during bus rides (‘grudging’ because he complained loudly about it but offered it immediately anyway), and even lending that stupidly tall idiot his gloves when it was cold and Oikawa had forgotten his.

It was almost embarrassing how much Iwaizumi did for Oikawa. Kentarou learned how to recognize when Iwaizumi was actually mad—since if he didn’t notice the signs, he’d end up making the entire volleyball team have to do butterfly drills again in retribution (Iwaizumi had been absolutely pissed that day)—and he was never actually mad about having to help Oikawa. When he was really angry, he’d get all sullen and silent—and scary, but Kentarou would absolutely not admit that. With Oikawa, though, he complained and acted all grumpy, but never really did anything more than hit him a few times.

Kentarou just couldn’t figure out why. Why did Iwaizumi care so much, why didn’t he get angry? Why did he sacrifice his gloves and bentos and slobber-free shoulder just for Oikawa? Why did he put up with him when everybody seemed to like him more anyway? Why did he stick by him when he could’ve made friends with anyone else?

He didn’t get it.

“Why does Iwaizumi-san take care of him so much?” He asked one afternoon when they’re cleaning up after practice in the gym.

Hanamaki glanced at him, a terrifying grin growing on his face. Matsukawa seemed to materialize out of thin air next to him, having been summoned by his excitement.

“Take care of who? Oikawa?”

Kentarou narrowed his eyes at them. He didn’t trust these two blockheads. “Yes.”

“What do you mean ‘take care’? Do you have examples? Recorded or otherwise preserved for us to witness?” Hanamaki inquired, leaning in closer.

Rearing his head back, Kentarou growled in his throat. “Why the hell would I have recorded Iwaizumi-san taking care of Oikawa?”

Hanamaki crossed his arms evenly. “Posterity.”

“Anyway; examples, Mad Dog. Give us examples.” Matsukawa beckoned.

Out of the two, Kentarou preferred Matsukawa to Hanamaki; he was less obtrusive, quieter, and generally more bearable. Still, he was best friends with Hanamaki, so Kentarou didn’t like him just on principle.

“Well...” Kentarou began, disliking having to talk about such an awkward topic with these two idiots but deciding to obey his senpais anyway (Iwaizumi would be proud). “He’s always giving him his bentos when he forgets them.”

Hanamaki had somehow gotten hold of a clipboard and was acting as a scribe as Kentarou spoke. He eyed him suspiciously.

“What?” Hanamaki replied brusquely. “This is for research purposes. You keep going.”

“Right,” he muttered before continuing reluctantly, “sometimes he lends him his gloves when it’s cold out and I can see his hands are freezing but he doesn’t say anything. And he always let Oikawa sleep on his shoulder on the bus and get drool everywhere.”

Matsukawa nodded encouragingly. “I’ve noticed all those same things. Yahaba raised concern about it last week, actually.”

“What.” Kentarou said flatly, his voice refusing to lilt into a question properly.

“Yep,” Hanamaki said cheerily, “and Watari was concerned for Iwaizumi’s well-being last week after he noticed he hadn’t had lunch for three days.”

“So?”

They looked at him like he was dense. “So, we need to hold an intervention for our resident vice captain.”

Kentarou turned around to walk out immediately. Both of them grabbed him by the shoulders and hauled him back. 

“None of that! You like playing volleyball, right?” Matsukawa taunted.

“Yeah,” he allowed sullenly.

“So you want the team to stay together, so that you can keep playing, yeah?” Hanamaki waggled his eyebrows. Kentarou was actively holding back a punch.

He fixed his gaze on the floor. “I guess.”

“So if three people have now officially voiced concern for our vice captain—and without our vice captain we can’t function as a team—we need to help him out, correct?”

So that was their angle, then. Well, he was in too deep now to deny it. 

“Probably.”

Hanamaki’s face morphed in a giant grin. “Fantastic! So you’ll come to an impromptu meeting before morning practice tomorrow?”

“Wait—”

“For the team, Kyoutani,” Matsukawa reminded, “all for the team.”

He wilted. He used to be stronger than this. “Fine.”

They showered him with obnoxious affections until he turned and walked out finally. He hated senpais that meddled too much. Iwaizumi was the only one who didn’t, and now he was going to have to be a part of the reason why Iwaizumi would be having an intervention tomorrow. 

At least, that’s what he assumed the impromptu meeting was for.

The next morning proved him right as he entered the gym and found the entirety of the volleyball team (with the exception of Oikawa and Iwaizumi) seated in a circle in the middle of the gym. 

He sighed through his teeth. Stupid fucking senpais.

He took a seat next to Yahaba. The senpais in charge of this gross abuse of power over the gym key stood in the middle of the circle.

“All right, guys, Iwaizumi is on his way here right now. Practice doesn’t start for another hour—hence why we got up disgustingly early to be here—so we have time before Oikawa arrives.” Hanamaki began.

“Remember: Iwaizumi’s constant matronly behavior towards Oikawa has to stop if he is to recover from this obvious lapse in sanity.” Matsukawa finished. “This is an intervention, all right? We need to help our vice captain.”

As if on cue, Iwaizumi burst through the gym doors. “What do you mean Shittykawa started a cult in my honor behind the baseball field?”

There was a moment of silence, only broken by Kunimi’s stifled laugh.

“Take a seat, Iwaizumi,” Hanamaki said gravely, face an impassive wall. “We as a team need to talk to you.”

He blinked at all of them, something like betrayal gracing his features as he hesitatingly did as he was told. Kentarou pitied him.

“We have received three complaints in the last month about your well-being,” Matsukawa informed him, “and we decided we needed to address the issue once and for all.”

Iwaizumi looked extremely confused. “Thank you for being concerned, but—”

“Feast your eyes, my precious kouhai! A man cursed with insanity, blinded by his own problems so entirely that he doesn’t even realize they’re problems!” Hanamaki shouted dramatically, shocking Watari out of his early morning stasis.

Kentarou wanted to go home. His bed had been so warm this morning, why had he left it again?

“What the hell is going on here,” Iwaizumi asked after a pregnant pause. His eyes were narrowed, and Kentarou didn’t like his chances about avoiding butterfly drills today.

Matsukawa patted his head as if he was some kind of dog. The vice captain had the distinct look of a person trying very, very hard to keep from snapping. Kentarou knew the feeling.

“This is about Oikawa-san,” Yahaba spoke up. 

Having the same expression of a deer caught in headlights, Iwaizumi said nothing for a few moments. “What about him?”

“Kyoutani had some good points yesterday,” Hanamaki said, eyes glinting with evil, “why don’t you tell Iwaizumi what we’re worried about?”

Kentarou had never wanted to be found guilty of homicide so much before. Speak against Iwaizumi, really? He’d never. The man was as close to the perfect senpai as Kentarou thought it possible to be. 

He ducked his head; the whole team was waiting to hear from him. 

Yahaba kicked him.

“Fucking fine!” He roared at last. “We are worried about you, Iwaizumi-san, because you constantly sacrifice for Oikawa and he’s a just a complete idiot!”

He sat there heaving before he found his voice again. Iwaizumi looked stricken, like he hadn’t been expecting that at all. 

“And I’m pretty sure Oikawa is in love with you!” He added.

Now, that got the rest of the team going. They audibly gasped in unison, staring at him. Iwaizumi’s face turned a bright red.

“Oh? Is that so?” Hanamaki prodded. “What gave you that impression?”

Damn it. 

“Well...” He faltered at Iwaizumi’s mortified expression. He loathed to admit it, but he was practically his idol. He’d always liked Iwaizumi. Now he was cursing him to a fate of being embarrassed in front of the entire volleyball team.

“Go ahead, Kyoutani,” said the victim himself. Iwaizumi looked resigned. “It’s okay.”

Rallying himself, he began again. “Well, Oikawa looks at Iwaizumi-san like he hung the stars every time he hits a spike.”

Matsukawa muffled his snickering very ineffectively. “Anything else?”

“And... sometimes when Iwaizumi-san isn’t looking, Oikawa stares at him for... long periods of time.” Kentarou had never felt more sympathy for a single human than he did for Iwaizumi in that moment. 

Yahaba raised his hand. Hanamaki motioned for him to speak.

“Sometimes Oikawa-san will ask if I think he has a chance with Iwaizumi-san.” He announced.

“Once, Oikawa-san told me to ‘stop hogging’ Iwaizumi-san’s attention,” Kindaichi admitted.

Watari scratched the back of his head awkwardly. “Um... last week Oikawa-san asked if I thought Iwaizumi-san preferred green or blue, and when I said green he put on a green shirt after practice.”

Iwaizumi was not usually prone to shielding his face with his hands or displaying any signs of distress, but just then he was curled over in his chair with his arms covering his entire head.

“Yesterday Oikawa-san consulted me on who I thought was gay on the team, and when I said Iwaizumi-san’s name, he ended the conversation. It gave me the impression that was all he cared about.” Kunimi said nonchalantly, eyes fixed on his fingernails.

“Wh—” Iwaizumi spluttered. “You think I’m gay?”

Shrugging, Kunimi looked at him with his dead eyes. Kentarou often avoided making direct eye contact with the first year; he was kind of scary.

“I would have pegged you for bisexual, not homosexual; but to answer your question, yes, I think you’re ‘gay’ in the sense of ‘gay’ being an umbrella term.” Kunimi explained evenly. 

Everyone stared at him for a moment.

“Right,” Hanamaki broke in awkwardly. “Okay then. So Iwaizumi likes men and Oikawa likes Iwaizumi.”

Matsukawa turned his wolffish grin towards Iwaizumi. “Which begs the question: does Iwaizumi like him back?”

All eyes fixed on the vice captain, who looked both uncomfortable and vaguely pissed at the same time. Kentarou couldn’t help feeling bad for having helped corner him.

“Well? Do you?” Hanamaki pressed after a  
moment of silence.

Kindaichi sighed. “There’s no way. Iwaizumi-san totally hates Oikawa-san.” 

Every moment Kentarou had witnessed of Iwaizumi’s overwhelming care for Oikawa flooded back into his mind at that moment—the bentos, the gloves, the lectures about taking care of himself—and everything pointed to Oikawa’s feelings being definitely reciprocated. He didn’t understand how everyone else didn’t see it.

The nightmare duo seemed stumped after Kindaichi’s statement. “Yeah, that’s true,” they were saying, “he always yells at him and scolds him.”

Yahaba sighed. “Just don’t be too hard when you let him down, okay, Iwaizumi-san?”

“Wait—” Iwaizumi choked.

Disbelief struck him; how could the team not know?

“But Iwaizumi-san does feel the same,” he said before he could stop himself, “because he’s always taking care of Oikawa.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Yahaba rolled his eyes. “He’s just doing it for the team.”

Iwaizumi was visibly stunned by everyone’s reactions, sitting in his seat completely mute.

“No, he isn’t, you fucking idiot,” Kentarou said as delicately as it was in his nature to do, “he loves him back. He gives him his bentos and goes without lunch regularly because Oikawa constantly forgets his own food. He always pretends like he doesn’t want to take care of Oikawa but he always does anyway. Sure, Oikawa looks at him like he hung the stars after he hits a spike, but he looks at Oikawa like he invented sliced bread after he nails his serve.”

“Wh—” Watari squinted at him. “When did you become a romantic?”

“Shut the fuck up,” he replied, getting up promptly to walk out. Yahaba snatched his jacket collar and hauled him back into his seat.

Hanamaki tapped his chin thoughtfully. “As a matter of fact... Our kouhai might have a point there, Iwaizumi.”

“Hey, don’t I get a say in this?” Iwaizumi complained.

“No,” Matsukawa said simply, “because—and I think Oikawa put this rather succinctly the other day—you’re a stupid, idiotic, emotionally constipated caveman with an affinity for ignoring your feelings.”

Throwing his hands up, Iwaizumi just groaned and said nothing more.

“I can see it!” Kindaichi said excitedly. “Remember four days ago at morning practice when Iwaizumi-san forcibly removed Oikawa-san from the court for pushing himself too hard?”

“And last month when he told us all to keep our mouths shut about Oikawa-san’s glasses because he lost his contacts and he gets self conscious?” Watari added, getting into the spirit.

“And just yesterday, when he threatened violence if I dared mess with Oikawa’s confession letters?” Hanamaki threw in, face screwed up in a pensive expression. “Hm. How did our very own Mad Dog notice this before us?”

Kentarou felt his face heating. Fuck this stupid team. “It’s obvious. You’re all just dumbasses.”

“We need to hear it from the horse’s mouth.” Hanamaki declared after a moment. “Iwaizumi? Do you admit that you are a disgusting, disgusting man and want to do disgusting, disgusting things with and to Oikawa?”

If it was possible, Iwaizumi looked even more embarrassed. “That is the worst way—the absolute...”

“Well?” Kunimi was leaned forward, showing a rare sign on interest in a conversation.

He wet his lips nervously. “I mean—it’s sort of—I don’t know. Like, I can’t just—”

“Yes or no!” 

“I—”

“Answer the fucking question!” Watari screamed.

Iwaizumi slammed his fist against the seat of his chair. Silence reigned as he glared at each and every person seated around him.

“You want to know how I feel about Oikawa?” He barked at them. “You trick me into coming here early in the morning, gang up on me, stage some sort of weird ass intervention-turned-matchmaking-session, and expect me to cooperate with you? That’s what you fucking think?”

Kentarou cleared his throat. “Are you or not?”

Iwaizumi’s gaze slid over to him before he sighed, shoulders slumping in defeat. “Yes. Yes, okay? Yes, I’m in love with Oikawa. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

Hanamaki absolutely beamed at that response. “Perfect! So you can just confess to him today and make this whole mess be over with!”

“It’s not that simple.” Iwaizumi replied stubbornly. “I don’t think he feels the same.”

There was a brief moment of silence for Iwaizumi’s apparent blindness, and then uproarious laughter filled the gym. Kentarou was not ashamed to be part of it.

“Oh, my god, you are fucking stupid,” Matsukawa nearly sobbed. “Look! I can see Oikawa coming through the window!”

A flurry of movement as everyone whipped their heads to see him coming, and then a very awkward pause fell over their group. 

“I’m not confessing,” Iwaizumi whispered preemptively.

“Why the hell not?” Hanamaki hissed. “You’re so—”

“Iwaizumi-san,” Kentarou said loudly, standing up, “you are the only person here worthy of my respect. You are the only person to have ever beat me in everything. You are the only person I use honorifics with. 

“I respect you because you have guts and you’re a good leader and you are patient even when you seem like you’re not. 

“I respect you and admire you a lot; but if you don’t fucking confess to Oikawa the second he steps into this building, I will walk out of here and never come back. I will literally quit the volleyball team. Don’t be a fucking coward; confess.”

Iwaizumi opened and closed his mouth a few times before just sighing. Kentarou had never heard a longer sigh.

They made eye contact for a long time, stubborn meeting stubborn, until something in Iwaizumi’s face shifted and he looked away.

“Fine.” He allowed. “I’ll do it.”

The whole team whooped at him as he made his way out the door and towards Oikawa. They huddled in the windows to watch.

When Oikawa saw Iwaizumi making his way out to him, he added a little skip to his step and flounced over to his best friend. He said something—presumably obnoxious—and Iwaizumi slapped his head.

They walked toward the gym together for a moment before Iwaizumi stopped him.

“Here it comes,” Hanamaki gasped.

Iwaizumi was saying something very serious. His face was completely void of any sort of expression. When he was finished speaking, Oikawa just stared at him for a moment.

Then he threw his head back and laughed so loud the team could hear it in the gym. 

The team’s wind was collectively knocked out of them, and Iwaizumi apparently felt the same, because he took a sizable step away from Oikawa.

Oikawa grabbed his arm, though, and pulled him back. Then he was saying something, eyebrows scrunched together in earnestness.

Then Kentarou’s view was blocked, because stupid Yahaba was holding a hand over his eyes.

“Oi! Fucker, get that away from m—” Having batted the setter’s hand off, he saw what he’d been shielding him from. 

Oh.

He never wanted to see his captains kiss ever again. Ever.

(Still, he would walk in on them in the storage closet, the mostly empty gym, random classrooms, and bathrooms many, many times in the future. It was disgusting. It was honestly nauseating how they looked at each other.) 

(And yes—Iwaizumi made them all do butterfly drills for the entirety of practice. Kentarou fucking hated Matsukawa and Hanamaki. 

Stupid fucking senpais.)

**Author's Note:**

> i hope you enjoyed even though the ending Fucking Sucked! Kyoutani is honestly such a fun character to write because he’s even meaner than iwaizumi. i love that for him. 
> 
> anyway, i recently got a tumblr, so go ahead and scream at me here https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/roobgumball95


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